


The Second First Meeting of the Pissed-Off Goalies Club

by sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum



Series: Pissed-Off Goalies Club [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum/pseuds/sassy_Tuukka_Time_Tantrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since their first meeting was a total fiasco the Pissed-Off Goalies club decide to retry their first meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second First Meeting of the Pissed-Off Goalies Club

**Author's Note:**

> You guys wanted a sequel, so I wrote a sequel. This will more than likely turn into a series.

The next day the four goalies decided to meet at the same location to try their first meeting over again. Since their first meeting had ended in a total fiasco when Tuukka Rask passed out. The three Canadians were relieved when Tuukka showed up with clean clothes on.

“Feeling better Tuukka?” Fleury asked.

“Yeah,” Tuukka responded, “I’m feeling much better today. I just have a little headache but other than that I’m fine. I got an earful from my girlfriend after you guys left though.”

“I don’t blame her,” Fleury said, “How did you even manage to drive yourself here yesterday in the first place?”

“My place is five minutes down the road from here,” Tuukka said.

“Then how come it took us nearly an hour to get to your place yesterday?” Price asked

“It’s not my fault your Canadian GPS can’t navigate the city of Boston,” Tuukka responded.

“Whoever designed the roads here needs to be slapped in the face with a goalie stick,” Fleury said.

“I’m pretty sure Pittsburgh is just as confusing as Boston.” Tuukka said.

“No way,” Fleury said, “Pittsburgh makes sense. Boston is just an endless maze of one way signs and confusing traffic patterns with shitty drivers thrown into the mix. I’ll stick with Pittsburgh thank you.”

“Can we not start an argument about the setup of our respective cities please!” Price exclaimed as he sensed tension in the two older goalies, “We’re here to bitch about our teammates, NOT to bitch about Boston traffic.”

“Which is awful by the way.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Tuukka said, “So what’s this little club all about anyway? I was pretty shocked to get a text from the Habs’ goaltender asking me to meet him in a location I couldn’t tell anyone about. I thought maybe you were going to kidnap me or something.”

“You weren’t exactly a threat to us this season,” Price said.

“Dude, that was one hundred percent my team’s fault,” Tuukka said, “I’m not afraid of you guys. I wish I could say the same about the rest of my team though. What am I supposed to do when the rest of the guys can’t seem to find the back of the net? Or when they won’t fucking defense!” 

“Don’t even get me started on that one,” Fleury said.

“Well, Tuukka, to answer your question I started this club with Fleury and Crawford for the sole purpose of complaining about our teammates.” Price explained.

“I hope you guys have a lot of time on your hands,” Tuukka said, “I have a lot of things I need to get off my chest.”

“That’s why we invited you,” Price said, “We figured you had some pent up aggression you needed to get rid of it. Do you want to start?”

“No,” Tuukka said, “I might go on for a while. Someone else can start.”

“I’ll start,” Fleury said, “So, in the month of April do you know how many goals my teammates scored? Eleven, they scored eleven goals. Granted we had some injuries.”

“Heh, don’t even get me started on injuries,” Tuukka scoffed, “We had two guys on our blue-line who didn’t end up hurt this season. One of them was scratched for half the season and the other was coming back from a surgery to repair torn ACL.” 

“They gave up five goals to Carolina and Columbus!” Fleury exclaimed, “Then they scored a total of five in those two games!”

“We gave up six to Columbus one game,” Tuukka said, “I was supposed to get that night off but nooooo. I had to go in in relief. Yeah, we scored two goals that game.”

“We gave up five goals to Columbus too,” Crawford said.

“I don’t think we lost to Columbus,” Price said.

“Lucky.” 

“We got shutout by Edmonton though,” Price said, "Three to nothing.

“That’s rough,” Tuukka said, “I had to witness my team suck at a twelve round shootout to the Oilers. No one scored in the first eleven rounds. So I ended it.”

“You purposefully lost a shootout?”

“Yup,” Tuukka said, “I was starting to feel sick and didn’t want to puke on the ice. There must be something about Edmonton. The second to last time we were there I woke up sick as a dog on game day, then the last time we were there I wasn’t feeling too great either. Granted, the fact that my team gave up three goals in the first then missed twelve shots in a shootout might have had something to do with it that last time. Trust me there are only so many shootout attempts you can watch your team fail before it starts making your stomach turn.”

“The last time we played Edmonton one of our defensemen tripped Ticker which lead to the game-winning overtime goal for Edmonton.” Price said, “We got swept by Edmonton this season.”

“We gave up five goals to Edmonton,” Crawford said. 

“That’s rough,” Tuukka said, “That shootout ended an, I want to say eleven year winning streak we had going against Edmonton.”

“I felt like every time I got a night off, we either barely won in OT or we lost,” Price said.

“At least you got nights off.” Tuukka said, “Do you want to know how many games I didn’t play in this season? Take a guess.”

“I don’t know,” Crawford said, “Twenty?”

“I fucking wish,” Tuukka said, “Twelve, I had twelve games off.”

“That means you played what…?”

“Seventy fucking games.” Tuukka said, “I started in sixty-seven of them.”

“Holy shit,” Fleury exclaimed, “Seventy games…I’d be like fuck that.”

“I sat as backup for just ten of them,” Tuukka said, “One game I was scratched because my stomach decided that it wasn’t going to hold anything down for a day. Thankfully they were able to call a guy up and I got a shitty day off. You can’t really get any rest when you’re running to the bathroom almost every hour. When I was able to lie down, my stomach hurt so badly that sleeping was impossible. And it wasn’t even like I could recuperate the next day either. We had a game at home against Arizona that I started.”

“How’d that go?” Crawford asked.

“Thankfully it was Arizona,” Tuukka said, “And the coach gave the guys a stern warning about what our practice would be like if they left me high and dry like they normally did. It wasn’t a hard game, I gave up one kinda iffy goal that beat me five-hole. But I still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, I was tired and had that day-after-being-sick feeling where your stomach still isn’t quite right but you’re not sick anymore. I almost told them I wasn’t feeling well enough to go out for the third. I mean we had a four goal lead but I didn’t want to risk it. I have nothing against our backup, it’s our defense I didn’t trust.”

“What about the other game you didn’t play?”

“I told our trainers that my legs were really sore and tight,” Tuukka said, “And that I didn’t want to risk a repeat of what happened to me in 2012.” 

“What happened to you in 2012?” Fleury asked.

“I tore an abdominal muscle and pulled a groin,” Tuukka said, “I was out the last nineteen games of the regular season and missed the first playoff round.”

“That’s a brutal injury,” Price said.

“You’re telling me, I almost couldn’t walk for two days,” Tuukka said, “But I wasn’t really as sore as I said I had been. I could have played but I was in major need of a mental health day. And the only way I was gonna get a full night off was if I told them I wasn’t feeling well enough to play.”

“What happened during those game you didn’t play for?”

“My team blew a two goal lead but thankfully won in overtime for the game I missed ‘cuz I was sick,” Tuukka said, “The other game, they lost in a shootout to fucking Buffalo.”

“Don’t even get me started on Buffalo,” Price said, “We won one game to Buffalo all season. And we couldn’t even do it in regulation, we won in a shootout. They beat us twice in regulation and once in a shootout.”

“We got swept by the Flyers this season,” Fleury said, “And didn’t do well against other teams in our division.”

“Let’s see,” Tuukka said, “We were swept by the Flames, Canucks, Habs, Capitals, Avalanche, Ducks. Lost series to the Senators, Columbus. Lost two games in the last second. Don’t even get me started on shootouts. Blew several three goal leads. It got to the point where if we had a three goal lead at the end of the first I would start to worry. I’m pretty sure that how I ended up with a migraine during one game.”

“Ugh those suck,” Price said, “So what ended up happening?”

“I think someone iced the puck in the first ten seconds of the second,” Tuukka said, “So I called the ref over and told him I couldn’t see. And he was like “what do you mean?” So I told him: “I saw four people taking the face off, I can’t stay out here.” That game was my thirtieth win this season, and I played twenty minutes and ten seconds of it. I was almost shocked my team managed to hold the lead.”

“Wow,” Price said, “Sometimes I wonder how my team managed to win games,” Price said, “We were outshot in more than half the game we played. I think there was more than one game they had seventeen shots on goal. ”

“See it was the opposite with us,” Tuukka said, “We outshot the other team in more than half the games we played and yet we still couldn’t manage to hit the back of the net. We played Toronto during our last home game. And my teammates took fifty fucking shots on goal and ONE found the back of the net. I give Riemer a ton of credit and some major props for stopping all but one. I mean even a puck I shot down the ice got in on Riemer and that was sadly one of the better scoring chances we had in overtime. But it’s like what the fuck. I swear to god they were aiming for the big blue maple leaf in the center of Riemer’s chest.”

“Did you guys at least win that game?”

“Yup,” Tuukka said, “Bergy scored in the shootout and I stoned all three Leafs’ shooters. But that game shouldn’t have gone to a shootout.” 

"I had one of my own teammates score on me," Crawford said, "He's done it at least three times so far."

"I had one of my own teammates skate right into me once," Tuukka said, "And because of it, I gave up a goal. It doesn't count as goalie interference if it's your own guy. Or when one of your guys turns the puck over right in fucking front of the goal." He paused, "I feel like I'm talking way more than the rest of you."

“Our seasons haven’t ended yet,” Price said, “We don’t need this little rant session nearly as bad as you do.”

“I didn’t want to go to the playoffs to be honest,” Tuukka said, “I don’t think I would have had it in me to play another at least four games. Fuck, I don’t think I would have had it in me to play one more game. The last three games of the season were brutal for me. My numbers were shit, I felt like shit and I got zero help from my team.” 

“What are you gonna do during the off season?”

“Besides try to recover from the hell my teammates put me through for seventy of the past eighty-two games?” Tuukka asked, “Probably not much. I’ll probably go back to Finland and just relax and play with my daughter. I swear she’s one of the reasons why I didn’t go completely off the deep end this season.”

“Yeah, little ones are good for that,” Fleury said, “When I have a rough game all I have to do is spend some time with my daughter, Estelle and I’ll feel better.” 

“You’re not going to play in the Worlds?”

“Probably not,” Tuukka said, “I don’t want to even think about hockey for a while. This season fucked me up and I need some time off. I don’t even want to know what my team would have done without me.”

“Same here.”

“Yup.”

“I hear you.”

The four sat in silence for a little bit until Tuukka’s phone went off. “Hey Bergy what’s up?” He greeted, “No, I didn’t talk to any of the guys yesterday. I was kinda sick last night and didn’t really leave the couch until I went to bed….Dude! What the fuck!? The fuck you mean, you think you killed our teammates!? How much did you fucking drink yesterday!?”

Price, Crawford and Fleury stared at each other in horror.

Tuukka glanced at the other three while he listened to Patrice, “I can’t talk about this now. I’m out with some friends. I’ll call you back later. But uh, if you call any of the other guys, don’t start the conversation like that. You’ll give someone a heart attack.” Tuukka ended the call then turned to the other three, “Do you happen to know if there’s a club for pissed-off forwards or associate captains?”

“Is Bergeron okay?” Fleury asked.

“No idea.” Tuukka responded, “Here I thought this season fucked me up and Bergy’s having dreams he killed our teammates. Can you believe that!?”

“Aren’t you worried about your teammates?” Crawford asked.

“Nah, it’s Bergy,” Tuukka responded, “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now if Bergy had been meeting with you guys and I called up saying that I wasn’t sure if I had killed my teammates, then that would be a good time to worry about the rest of the Bruins. Since it’s Bergy he probably had some crazy kind of fever dream or something. I know I’ve had some fucked up fever dreams.”

“So have I.” Fleury said, “I had one once where Sid and Malkin started figure skating in the middle of a game then they turned into some crazy tornado person that destroyed the Consol.”

“I had one during the Olympics I had a fever dream where Team Sweden, led by my Bruins’ teammate Loui Eriksson, tied me to the goal post then shot the severed heads of my Finnish teammates at me. Then when they were done with that they shot the heads of my Bruins teammates at me.”

“Oh my god!” Fleury exclaimed.

“Tell me about it,” Tuukka said, “I don’t want to know what part of my mind that came from. I woke up to an extremely worried Teemu Selanne pressing a cold pack to my forehead. Apparently I had been screaming so loud I woke the rest of the teammates. They were so worried they called for the team doctor and I was immediately ruled out for the game against Sweden and ruled questionable for the medal round.”

“So were you actually sick?” Fleury asked.

“Yup,” Tuukka said, “I had a fever and the flu.”

“I remember hearing Claude Julien mention to Bergy that you had been ill for the game against Sweden.” Price said, “A bunch of us had been trying to figure out why Finland started Lehtonen over you.”

“I woke up not feeling well the day we played Russia and played through it,” Tuukka explained, “My fever was a little too high for them to clear me to play against Sweden. I was still a little feverish the day of the game against the US but I was feeling about one hundred times better that day so I was able to play.”

“Wait,” Fleury said, “You played those two game sick? I would have never guessed!”

“Thanks,” Tuukka responded, “So uh, in the off chance that Bergy did happen to kill the rest of our teammates yesterday, could you guys be my alibi?”

“Of course,” Fleury said, “You were too busy passing out because of paint fumes here to kill your teammates. Not to mention it took an hour to get you back to your place. Plus didn’t you tell Bergy you spent the rest of the day on the couch?”

“Yeah,” Tuukka said, “My girlfriend wasn’t too happy with me and told me that I was going to spend the rest of the day resting.”

“You have a pretty solid alibi,” Crawford said, “I just wouldn’t show them the shirt you showed up in yesterday. That might not go over well.”

“I think that just about conclude our first meeting,” Price said, “Seeing that we stopped talking about hockey about twenty minutes ago. Tuukka you said you were gonna head back to Finland for the summer?”

“Yeah,” Tuukka said, “I’m not entirely sure when I’m going back yet. There’s still snow on the ground in Finland and after this past winter here, I don’t quite want to see any more of it for a while. If I do happen to be in Finland for our next meeting just hit me up on Skype and we can video chat.” 

“Sounds good,” Price said, “Drive home safe.”

“Hey you guys too,” Tuukka said, “Good luck in the playoffs.”

“Enjoy your summer.”

“Oh I will.”

The four goaltenders ended their meeting in a much less frantic manner than they had the day before. There was still a little bit of doubt about the status of the rest of the Bruins’ roster but they figured that that matter would more than likely resolve itself. And elsewhere in Boston a confused and mildly panicked Patrice Bergeron was in the process of making several phone calls in the hopes of figuring out whether the incredibly vivid dream where he had murdered the rest of his teammates had indeed been a dream or not.


End file.
